The or, what the hell had I been thinking? I cursed myself as I unbuttoned my baby blue dress shirt that conformed to my slender upper body. As I stripped it off I studied myself in the bathroom mirror and draped the fine linen over the edge of the sink counter. I traced the fading scars that covered my chest and stomach. A few were still sensitive as I stroked the raised edges of tissue.

“They’re healing nicely.”

I jerked my eyes to the right in the mirror to find him watching me. An odd expression in his green eyes. I wondered what he thought of me. His attitude toward me had shifted but I still feared he saw me as he had the night I was led into his office. In his opinion was I still the pain addict whore that everyone made me out to be? At the club earlier I’d almost felt—normal. Like a well-adjusted man curled up against my date.

I mentally shook off my thoughts and my brain started to focus on other things. His unbuttoned shirt exposed the thick hair on his chest and stomach, his tie hanging loose. To keep from getting caught I returned to my perusal. My stomach was no longer concave and my ribs didn’t show through my pale skin. My cheeks face was filling out and I didn’t look like a skeleton. I knew I had more weight to gain in order to get up to fighting weight as he called it.

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong, baby boy?” His grumbly voice was low and soft, yet seemed to fill the room effortlessly.

“Just remembering.”

“Remembering what?” He asked as he entered the bathroom and stood behind me. There were several inches between us but I could still feel his body heat—his overwhelming presence—and my weakness called to me to lean back into his strength.

Something inside me was sick and rotten, I relied on him to keep me safe. He did little things that weren’t necessary. Like the espresso or candy, letting me pick a show on TV. They were stupid things but men didn’t do nice things for me just out of the kindness of their hearts. It always came with a price.

“Talk it out.”

Resistance was futile when his hands rested on my hips and he flexed his arms, pulling me back to his larger frame. The slightly coarse chest hair tickled my skin and my gaze flew to his. Nothing in his expression gave away his thoughts. He was as stoic as I remembered. That emotionless mask made me warier. While I didn’t think he’d physically hurt me, emotionally and mentally he could destroy me.